


Aftermath

by dennih23



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:21:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dennih23/pseuds/dennih23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal deals with the apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Last Author Standing Round One, Challenge Five - prompt was "It's the end of the world (as we know it)" - maximum word limit of 500 words.

Neal was restless and like a caged tiger he paced the length of Thursday. He needed to get out.

He walked over to his easel and attempted to paint. The white canvas stared back taunting him. Picking up the paints he tried forging a Monet but it turned out dark and haunted. Frustrated he threw the painting in the trash with the others.

Neal stepped to the window and stared out over the horizon. He loved New York but this was not his city. His New York was bright and filled with museums and galleries. Now it was dark and full of despair, the dead lining the streets.

He took a deep breath and shuddered, closing his eyes to the desolation, he tried to remember how happy he had been a few weeks ago. He gulped down a glass of wine and headed to his room hoping to get some rest.

He drifted off to sleep only to have the nightmares return. The day of the apocalypse continued to haunt him.

Moz had foreseen the inevitable and was waiting for him as he left the FBI offices and had quickly ushered him into a waiting limo. He could still see Peter head towards the Taurus. He had stopped to assist a passerby when they were attacked. Neal heard the bullets ring out. He wanted to stop and help but Moz kept going telling him they needed to get out now. Tears streamed down his face as Peter lays motionless on the ground.

For days he tried to contact Peter or Elizabeth but their phones went unanswered. He was desperate to find out what happened to them, to June and her family, to Sara, and to Jones and Diana. He feared for all of them.

He woke covered in sweat, he couldn’t breathe. It was imperative he leave. He waited until dark when he thought Moz was asleep. He crept towards the door only to find Moz blocking the way. Before he knew what was happening a needle was inserted into his neck. He felt the warm fluid passing through his system. He groaned as he collapsed into oblivion.

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Peter startled, convinced he heard a small groan coming from the hospital bed. He pushed himself out of the chair and went to Neal’s side. He gently took his friend’s hand hoping Neal would open his eyes.

Down deep Peter feared he would never see those blue eyes again. Three days ago Neal was shot, the bullet causing what was feared to be massive brain damage. Neal was comatose and the prognosis was that he would probably never recover. Peter held vigil hoping the doctors were wrong.

Peter brought the chair next to the bed and continued to hold Neal’s hand. He swore that Neal moved or groaned every now and then. He even thought Neal called out his name once. He had to believe Neal was trying to escape from whatever hell he was trapped in.


End file.
